To Have a Family
by Sheechire
Summary: Her world was shattered to pieces when she was five and she has been running since. At first, she hated them for taking what she held dear and wanted to destroy them. But where do hate and prejudice lead?
1. Chapter 1

So I haven't written anything in a very long time and I have never put this much work into an OC. There is backstory, as that is what this story begins with, but I'm not completely sure how I'm gonna include it in future chapters. Either just flashback chapters or bits and pieces of the story being mentioned when it's appropriate. Let me know what you would prefer. Also, if you dislike the formatting or anything please tell me. I've never been great at formatting and I've never uploaded here before so it might be a bit wonky. Apart from that, enjoy!  
(Also, this made me realize how unclear timeframes are in One Piece like damn Oda, damn.)

* * *

Her first memories were of fire and screams. The little autumn island on the Grandline had been peaceful before, but since Gol D. Rogers' execution that was no longer the case.  
Lia had been born into the golden age of pirates, as more and more decided to take the King up on his word and set out to find the One Piece, chasing a dream that would mean death for most of them.  
Despite that, the island had been faring well. Ships didn't dock there often and the pirates that did weren't too rowdy. But one incident can be all it takes.

The girl was crying and clutching to her mother's dress. As vivid as the memory was, she could not remember her face. Nor her laugh. Everything about her mother was clouded by the harsh shadows created by fire and screams and attacking pirates.  
She was five at the time, tall for her age with red hair and bright eyes. The fire made her hair flicker like a flame itself, and even as she was crying over her mother's body, irrationally trying to get her to move - get up, leave, help her - she knew she had to run or she would die too.  
A strange thought for a child it seems but her instinct was screaming at her to stay alive and staying here, clinging to the lifeless shell of the most important person in her life wouldn't help her with that. She lifted her head and sniffed, snot mixing with tears, and shakily got to her feet. She didn't look down again certain that if she did, she would stay.

Little feet in boots carried her through the burning village, toward the sea. She had always loved it, the way it smelled, the way the moon reflected off it on clear, albeit often chilly, nights.  
Not today, though. Today it seemed to be on fire like the rest of her precious little world.

There was only one ship docking in port, it's gangplank lowered. It was an ugly thing made of dark wood, a grotesque figurehead illuminated by the flames of burning houses throwing sharp shadows and making it look like a monster ready to swallow her whole.  
Her steps faltered as she looked up to the sails and saw a Jolly Roger proudly grinning down at her. She had nowhere else to go but she couldn't go onto the ship of the very pirates that were currently pillaging and destroying her village. The people who had smashed her world into pieces.  
But where else would she go? Hide on the island and come back to the village once the pirates were gone? If she was the only one left, she wouldn't survive long.

The little girl gathered all the courage she could muster and carefully crawled up the gangplank, looking around the deck to see if some pirates had stayed behind. To her the deck seemed huge. Stretching on and on, only interrupted by the main mast. Ships were strange, so big and heavy and yet staying afloat, but she didn't linger on the thoughts and looked around. Where would she go? She looked up at the main mast and the crow's nest but quickly disregarded the idea.

Her mother had told her about ships before, the basic layout of them, things a five-year-old could understand and not get too bored by. She remembered that ships stayed out at sea for long periods of time, needing a supply of food and drinking water so it's crew would survive the voyage.  
The safest hiding spot would be the storage, especially on a ship this big and her being this small she would be able to easily hide. Spotting a wooden grate, the girl ran over to it and peered down.  
Was this the right spot? She looked toward the doors on the other side of the deck.  
She had no idea where they would lead so she looked down again. The spaces in between the planks were just big enough for her to fit through so she made up her mind.  
Sitting down on the side of the grate she peered into the darkness below and let herself fall through the gap.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?!" A rough voice scared Lia from her nightmare. Even though the incident, she could not refer to it as anything else, took place almost a decade ago she still dreamt of it.

The scrawny 14-year-old stared up at the person who had woken her.  
Stupid, she thought.  
She should have been more careful and hidden better. Usually she was good at hearing people coming and hiding somewhere else so that she wouldn't be found.  
But she hadn't been feeling well since the last island, the one where she had entered this ship, and had come down with something. That's why she hadn't been able to focus on her surroundings properly, a stupid mistake.  
The pirate grabbed her by the front of her shirt and easily lifted her up. While she had once been taller than average for her age, she was now a lot shorter than a 14-year-old should be.  
Her scrawny frame and sharp face made it obvious she didn't get the nutrition she should but when travelling while hiding on ships it was often hard to eat even once a day.  
While the pirate seemed angry at her hiding away on his crew's ship, he hadn't just pulled out a knife or gun and killed her to be rid of her.  
"Fuck off!" she yelled and tried to wiggle out of his grip, although it was obviously for naught.  
The difference in size and weight was too big and she wasn't more than a slight annoyance to the pirate. Even if she had escaped this one, there were several hundred more and they were out at sea.

There was nowhere to run. Logically she should stay still and preserve energy but she wouldn't go down without putting up a fight.  
As the pirate tossed her over his shoulder, essentially treating her like a sack of potatoes, she tried to kick him in the face or at least bite him, but she couldn't reach.

Suddenly brightness blinded her and she squeezed her eyes shut. The headache she had been dealing with for days exploded as her eyes were exposed to the light and went from a dull throbbing to a full-blown stabbing.  
It didn't help matters much when she was unceremoniously dropped onto deck but she forced herself to push the pain aside and got back on her feet.  
Like hell she was going to face her doom while lying on the ground like a kicked puppy.

"Pops, I found a stowaway." The pirate who had found her seemed annoyed at the idea of someone being stupid enough to try to hide on a Yonko's ship.  
He pointed at her the way one might point at a bug or a spider that was there but they didn't want to squish because then bug guts wouldn't be stuck to the wall forever.

"Gurarara, that hasn't happened in a while! Gurararara!" Whitebeard grinned down at the peculiar scene before him. What he said was true, before he was a Yonko and before Rogers' execution stowaways could be found on their ship every couple weeks.  
Some just wanted to get to a different island, some were intrigued by him and some were stupid enough to not only stowaway on his ship but also challenge him after.  
As his reputation rose and he became more well known, nobody was fool enough to attempt that again. Except for this scrawny brat.  
Said brat apparently wasn't happy over being laughed at and scowled up at him, which only made him laugh more.  
Lia wanted to speak up and say something, tell him to shut up, at least say something so she wouldn't look like a fool, and had it been anybody else, she would have.  
But now, standing in front of Whitebeard she couldn't do anything but grimace up at him.

Maybe choosing his ship had been a stupid idea. Maybe she hadn't calculated the risk properly. Out of the corner of her eye Lia saw that more people had come on deck, undoubtedly having heard the commotion, and wanting to see what was going on. Great.

"What do you want, brat?" Whitebeard addressed her directly and her attention immediately snapped back to him, her scowl deepening further.  
"Don't call me that." Her voice seemed like a tiny, fragile bird compared to his bellowing and she clenched her teeth.  
Still, she forced herself not to look away – until something caught her eye.  
Whitebeard was still grinning at her, clearly amused, but what had caught her attention was the thing above his mouth.  
"That's a fucking moustache," she thought aloud, frowning.  
Half the crew sweat dropped while the others suddenly got a twitchy eye.  
"Why WhiteBEARD then?!" She continued her musings but was interrupted by the Yonko's deafening laugh and Lia had trouble not losing her balance at the slight tremor that went over deck.  
This was not an ideal situation to be in. A very odd one, but very much not ideal.  
At least she wasn't dead yet.  
That thought was quickly chased away as someone smacked her on the back of her head and she fell to her knees as pain exploded behind her eyes once more and a wave of nausea rolled over her.  
She had reached out a hand to stop herself from faceplanting into the wooden floor and kept her head down as she panted, trying to get her bearings back.

"Way to hit a little girl, Marco! Good job!"

"Shut up, Thatch yoi! I didn't hit her that hard."

"And from behind no less! Shame on you!"

Marco turned around to look at the other commander, eye twitching in annoyance. He meant what he had said, he really hadn't hit her hard.  
Deciding to ignore Thatch, he focused his eyes on the child again. To him, she looked like she could be no older than eleven.  
Her arms were thin branches and he could see her shoulder blades sticking out through her shirt. That sure wasn't healthy.  
With a sigh he leant against Oyaji's chair and watched the kid who was still squeezing her eyes shut. He didn't have to look up at Whitebeard to confirm he had _the look_ , he had seen it on his face when the girl had first started speaking.

"Should I get her to the med bay, yoi?", he asked, looking up at his father.

"Gurarara! Get her something to eat, too! She needs it. I'll talk to the brat in a few days."

With yet another sigh Marco pushed away from the chair and, at least somewhat carefully, picked the kid up, throwing her over his shoulder and walking below deck.  
Still grinning, Whitebeard took a swig of his sake. He had already made up his mind about the brat. She was scrawny and probably couldn't even throw a proper punch, but there were plenty of grown men who couldn't meet his eyes for even a second, while the brat had defiantly glared at him for several.  
He didn't know if she even had any skills to begin with but there was a spark in her and he was certain that with enough training it would grow.


	2. Chapter 2

"I can walk myself y'know," came the timid voice from the heap on Marco's shoulder. They had already made their way down several hallways and a set of stairs, giving Lia time to get her bearings. The only reply she was graced with by the commander was a scoff. Well then.

With nothing else to do Lia looked at her surroundings. The wood inside was dark and she noticed that Marco's steps were surprisingly quiet on it. As she looked down she couldn't help but scrunch up her face at the man's odd choice of foot wear. Strappy sandals seemed incredibly impractical but then again, he probably wasn't the kind of person who managed to trip over their own feet. What a display that would be. The first commander of Whitebeard's crew faceplanting in the middle of a battle because one of the straps on his shoes ripped. Lia couldn't hold back the smirk pulling at her lips.

"Something funny, yoi?"

Lia's face fell immediately. What the hell? Did this guy have eyes on the back of his head or something? He hadn't moved his head to look at her and even if he had, there was no way he could see her face from that angle so how –

Before she could ponder further she was dumped on a bed.  
Was that "their thing"? Just dropping people? She certainly hoped not, especially if she kept being the subject of it.  
As she sat up on the edge of the bed she looked around. On the left side, in the back of the room, was a door that seemed to lead to the office of the ship's doctor. She could hear Marco's voice drifting from it but no matter how hard she strained it was too soft to make out words.  
While she kept an ear on the white noise of the conversation she looked around further. Surprisingly enough, the room wasn't as huge as she would have thought. Either the pirates on this ship weren't injured or sick very often, or there were more medical rooms on this deck.  
That would make the most sense since there had to be a room for surgeries somewhere.  
Of course there were plenty of pirate crews that didn't have the common sense to have a proper doctor on board, let alone a room or equipment for treatment of injuries and the like. From what Lia had heard, however, Whitebeard deeply cared about his crew, going so far to call them his family; his children. A strange idea for any person, let alone a pirate captain.

With a start, she realized that the quite murmur of conversation had stopped and she forced herself to turn her head towards the office door slowly, rather than snapping it in the direction. For one, she didn't want the pain in her head to explode again, she had had enough of that for the day, and maybe more importantly she couldn't afford to seem like a deer in the headlights. Growing up without anybody to look out for her or keep her safe had taught her that giving people an opening was a bad idea.  
Her eyes found Marco's for a second. His lazy posture and unengaged facial expression were betrayed by the sharp look in his eyes. Next to him was a tall man, only a few centimetres shorter than the blond and while he looked old, it seemed oddly out of place. There were wrinkles all over his face but they weren't deep and his stare was calculating.  
Lia involuntarily grit her teeth. That was the reason she hated doctors. From her perspective, there were two types.  
Type A didn't give a shit about runts like her, all they did was suck up to rich and educated people. To better and more valuable clients.  
Type B, on the other hand, may have cared, but in an egoistic way. From her experience, Type Bs didn't see patients as people but as conditions. They were interesting as long as they weren't fixed and could be studied or serve as a test subject for new treatments. Them being actual people rather than simple case studies, was secondary. Neither were all too gentle but B kept prodding and poking until they were satisfied.

"I'll let Oyaji know."  
At his words, Lia snapped her eyes back to Marco and watched as he strode past her and out the door, not sparing her another look.  
As soon as the door clicked shut she focused her eyes on the doctor again. The man had picked up a tray and was making his way over to the bed she was sitting on, pulling along a chair from the next bed over. He placed the tray on the blanket of her bed and sat down. As he did so, Lia inconspicuously scooted back a little and spared a glance at the tray.

She had no medical knowledge and only recognized the syringe on the tray, the other objects didn't make much sense to her. She also saw a clipboard peeking out from under the tray.  
"What's your name?" the doctor asked suddenly and Lia fixed her eyes on him again. He had put on gloves and was standing up and leaning over her.  
"Lia," she replied as the man gently dipped her head forwards and prodded her skull. Lia grabbed the edge of the bed tighter. She hated this.  
The doctor gave a dry laugh. "From looking at you, I would have thought you were a boy."  
That happened a lot. Lia didn't mind, somebody mistaking her for a boy didn't feel like an insult to her. People tended to be rougher with boys, yes. But Lia had seen what pirates, and even Marines, did to women and young girls. Being thin enough to pass as a boy was a blessing in that regard.  
The roaming hands on her skull stopped and the man sat back down, still holding her head between his hands.  
"Let me know if something hurts when I move it," he instructed before turning her head in different directions. Seemingly satisfied with the result he let go and grabbed something from his tray.  
"Put this under your tongue."  
Lia frowned at the thing he passed her but did as she was told. Meanwhile, he shone a light into her eyes, causing her to flinch away. Not roughly, but sternly her head was turned to face him again.  
"Follow the light with your eyes."  
So, she did. Whatever this was for, it was starting to annoy her. Next, he pulled the thing from her mouth and looked at it before placing it together with the light back on the tray. He grabbed the clipboard and jotted down a few things.  
"How old are you?" His writing paused and he looked at her.  
Lia blankly looked back at him, thinking for a second. She used to be able to lie about her age but at this point, people usually thought she was younger than she really was.  
"14."  
His eyes lingered on her face a moment longer before they turned toward the clipboard again. When he was done, he laid it back onto the bed with the paper facing down and stood up.  
He beckoned her to follow him as he walked into his office and stopped next to his desk. The room wasn't very big and it was crowded with bookshelves. The desk was flooded with papers and more books and the contrast between the neat "bed room" she had been in until now, and this was stunning.  
Lia looked back to the doctor and noticed he was adjusting an odd-looking scale. Before stepping on it she was asked to stand with her back against a wall so the doctor could measure her.  
The number on the scale meant nothing to her but the small sigh from the doctor made it clear he wasn't all too happy with the number.

They went back to the other room and she sat down again.  
As the doctor jotted down more notes he asked more questions.

"Which island were you born on?"  
"Kaitem."  
"Since when do you have that fever?"  
A shrug. "A while."  
"Anything else apart from headaches?"

Lia paused in thought. While she was being treated and nobody had _really_ shown any hostility towards her, she was still wary of the pirates. Trust was not earned that easily and she refused to expose more of her own weaknesses than she already had.  
So, she shook her head.  
Again, the doctor's gaze lingered on her longer than it should have before he got up and tossed his gloves into the trash.

"I wanted to do a blood test to make sure you aren't hosting some strange disease and bringing it on-board, but you are too dehydrated and it's probably too late at this point anyway. I'll take a blood sample in a few days anyways to see your levels."  
He came back and picked up the tray, cleaning the tools on it and putting them away.  
"It's almost dinner time so you'll have to wait for a meal but I'll send one of the nurses to check on you and get you something to drink and have you take a shower. Do you have a bag with clothes to change into?"  
"No," she replied. She didn't have a need for many things. She wore her clothes until she needed new ones and then threw them away. This way, she didn't have to worry about something being taken from her or forgetting something somewhere.  
A glass of water was put on the chair still standing next to her bed and handed her two pills. "Take these." As he noticed her sceptical look he rolled his eyes. "One is an antibiotic, the other a painkiller. I'll get you a change of clothes and a nurse will check on you soon. Until then, stay out of my office, stay in this room, and behave."

He shot her a stern look and Lia nodded silently. She got the feeling that this man was far too used to having to deal with his crew's shit and she didn't want to get on his bad side. He waited for her to swallow the pills and left the room, the sound of his steps dull on the wood in the hallway.  
Having nothing better to do, Lia lay down and stared at the ceiling, counting the boards.

She got to 43 before somebody barged into the room.

* * *

So, classes started again. Which is great because I love sleep deprivation.  
I don't know how often I'll be able to update this but at least once every two weeks seems doable.  
Also, I'm sure Marco has to have a 6th (or 7th after Haki) sense and knows when people wanna prank him or make fun of him.  
Seems like a necessity with this crew (and especially Thatch).


End file.
